Concert review: Blaudzun, Paradiso Amsterdam, January 20th 2012 – There’s a remarkable amount of ‘black-nerdy glasses’ in the upstairs hall of the Paradiso resembling those of the “object of our affection.” Thoughtful, intelligent faces. Dark, ‘slobby’ clothing. There’s not going to be a lot of dancing tonight, that much is clear. We are in a place full of ‘heads’ separated from their respective bodies by all sorts of serious thoughts. In interviews Blaudzun himself claims he’s not depressed, but certainly is inclined to be so. It’s a relief. His wonderfully melancholic music is perfect for hooting and howling and wallowing in self pity. His lyrics are deeply poetic, to interpret according to mood, time of day and company. When I listen to Blaudzun (born John Sigmond), I see vast empty promenades alongside rivers at the break of dawn, decayed landings in abandoned buildings, darkened hotel rooms, nightly strolls on deserted beaches.
Compared to his first two CDs, Blaudzun (2008) and Seadrift Sound Machine (2011) his new album, Heavy flowers, is more up-tempo, more ‘noise’, more sweepingly melodic, more vital. Blaudzun didn’t plan for Heavy Flowers to be so dramatic and heavily orchestrated, or so he says in interviews. Besides the mandolin, banjo and ukulele, now wind, strings, accordion, heavy drum, reverb, foot stamps, handclaps and flutes are added into the mix. “It just had get it out of my system” he says. I guess he did.
22.30: lights dim, the smoking gun is running overtime, as he ascends the stage: the musical demigod, genius in disguise. The black hair, beard, mustache, messy black shirt, brown velvet jacket and faded skinny jeans around not so skinny legs…a sarcastic commentary on the importance we attach to image, on the deception of appearances? Or can it be a much needed disguise, a buffer between the outside world and the too vulnerable inside world, that you suspect there to be if you hear Blaudzun’s tormented, heartbreaking singing voice?
Once Blaudzun and his impressive 6 piece band, including his “little brother” on guitar, start to play, I forget to think. I listen to the stunning We Both Know (‘a steep fall, hanging by a thread Oh’) about the painful realization of a waning relationship. Lyrical swelling, despairing and at the same time full of life. The song Le Chant Des Cigales (“She took her feet in the New Age, lock your hearts, lock the bathroom doors”), a cheerful upbeat song with yet again that grim layer. And Sunday Punch (a rock song for the banjo) which could make you erupt in wild, uncontrolled dancing. And even though Blaudzun admits he’s drowsy from so many recent performances (“what day is it today guys?”), he seems to find energy in finding new interpretation of the melodies on every occasion. Effortlessly skipping from low to high and back, never off key, continuously singing in complex twists and turns – what a range does this guy have, what an incredible talent, with so much emotion in his voice. We have tapped into his veins. We get goose bumps all over.
As an encore the band played my personal favorite – the small, understated song Solar. I appear to be the only one who’s singing along loudly. “It hurts to much to stay, but I won’t let go!” I get shocked, slightly annoyed looks. Too frivolous, I know. Too thoughtless, too passionate. I can not help it: this sad music makes me so happy.